A list of normal-person things I have done in the past few weeks

For better or for worse, concert season tends to distill my life into a caveman-style existence. Near the end of my March-April-May run, my daily routine involved practicing madly from early morning to late at night, keeping myself awake by overdosing on Earl Grey (yes, the tea—it’s not some fancy new slang for drugs), subsisting on whatever I’d ordered from DoorDash for the day, and never leaving the house.

These long bouts of solitude were punctuated by, of course, my actual performances, which involved putting on real clothes and switching into meet-and-greet, Q&A mode, which thoroughly confused and entertained the atrophied social centers of my brain.

I emerged from the latest spate of concerts, blinking confusedly in the sunlight, having almost forgotten what a normal life looked like. I have since spent the past couple of weeks diving into doing Very Normal Things that I think Normal People do. Here is a list of those things:

    1. I have put on clothes that are not A) pajamas or B) red dresses and I have left the house! Several times!
       
    2. I have re-discovered the joy that is fresh, non-takeout food. I have been joyfully eating kale every single day for…uh, many days. And fruit! [immediately puts “fresh fruit” on all riders from here on out]
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    3. I saw a movie. That movie was Captain America: Civil War and when Chris Evans said [spoiler] “Thank you, Sharon,” in the movie, I said “You’re welcome” out loud in the movie theater.
       
    4. Bryce and I went to Disneyland, where I drove a kiddie convertible.

      A photo posted by Sharon Su (@doodlyroses) on

    5. Then we came back and I got an actual convertible.
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      (This is not a drill. I now drive this car.)
       
    6. I made decorated a cake.
       
    7. Did I mention that I’ve put on real clothes and left the house? I don’t think I mentioned that. Hey you guys, I’ve been putting on real clothes and leaving the house! NORMAL PERSON STUFF.

Life, Lately

When I was younger I was plagued by a sincere fear that my diaries and school compositions would be studied and published by future historians looking to illustrate life in the 90s. I’m well out of both the 90s and my childhood paranoia (which has only been replaced by adult neuroses) but to some extent that particular fear still lingers in the back of my mind. Since my last update, I’ve been relatively absent from social media, I haven’t written in my personal journal, and I also haven’t written any juicy tell-all letters to anyone. So according to the official record, the last couple of months never happened.

So, doctoral history candidates from the year 2519 (Hello! Do we still have polar ice caps?), here’s what’s been going on lately.

Recitals

Through April and May, I gave a cluster of solo recitals, and even taught a master class.

You know it all went well, because I got flowers out of the whole deal.

Sometime this century I will get around to uploading clips to my abandoned Youtube and Soundcloud channels, but until then, here’s the proof:

recital
Photo courtesy of Laura Holford.

There’s also an Instagram video, which you will have seen if you’ve liked my page on Facebook (wink, wink).

Amalfi

If my Facebook feed is any indication, one of life’s greatest joys (second only to finding true love or having your work praised by someone you admire) is announcing your international travel plans on social media in some clever, self-congratulatory way, so that you can convince people you are a worldly, important jetsetter, rack up as many likes as possible, and reaffirm your worth as a human being.

I am clearly where happiness goes to die, because I never got around to making one of those status announcements. I mean, I thought about it, and then I procrastinated, and then it got to the point where I seriously considered just not telling anyone that I was going to Italy.

That’s right, I’m going to Italy this summer to be in the Amalfi Coast Festival! I am excited! I am scared! I am not practicing nearly enough!

My biggest concern right now is what kind of data plan I’ll get in Italy, because I want to be able to upload all evidence of my worldly, important jetsetting to Instagram. #priorities

Instagram Travels

Speaking of Instagram, did you know that shamelessly reposting Instagram photos is a totally legitimate form of blogging? That’s right.

Because I am a spectacularly smart planner, my string of recitals coincided with some work deadlines and other various obligations, so by the time May was half over, I hadn’t had a free day in weeks and was slightly dying inside. So I did the only responsible thing: I canceled all my appointments one day and got on a plane.

Today is a “clear your schedule and get on a plane” kind of day.

A photo posted by Sharon Su (@doodlyroses) on

It was a short flight—just to LA, where I had the most painfully awkward conversation ever with a confused Uber driver, got to hang out with some really great friends, and experienced the wonderful, therapeutic goodness of a hotel bed. Here is my 100% sincere grown-up recommendation: if you’re feeling worn out by life and you just want to feel comfortable and responsibility-free, just go sleep in a nice, soft hotel bed. 

Then two weeks later, I was back in LA (planned ahead this time) for a weekend in Disneyland. You know, as adults do. 

  #latergram from last night: a memory of strong drinks and great people. #tradersams #dlr   A photo posted by Sharon Su (@doodlyroses) on

Ohhhh yeah. #Disneyland #dlr A photo posted by Sharon Su (@doodlyroses) on

Bryce and I were joined by our good friends Ben and Midori and we proceeded to spend most of our time drinking, eating, and Instagramming. #sorrynotsorry to anyone who happens to follow all four of us. 

  It’s 5 PM somewhere, right?   A photo posted by Sharon Su (@doodlyroses) on

Thanks for the great shot, @midoriwada! #nofilter A photo posted by Bryce McLaughlin (@brycemclaughlin) on

So in a nutshell, that’s what I’ve been doing—outside of the usual eating -> sleeping -> existential panic cycle, I mean.

(Believe it or not, I actually feel rather guilty that I don’t update this blog as much as I should. Once in a while I try to rationalize it: Jeremy Denk never updates his blog! But then again, he’s Jeremy Denk. I don’t think that’s an excuse I’ll be able to use.)

Things I learned from a self-defense class, Part 1

The armless rubber dummy I punched to hell and back today. His name is Bob, he’s actually a really nice guy.

Today I found myself in a T-shirt, exercise pants, and sneakers—clothes I have not worn for months/years/eons? The longest part of getting dressed today involved trying to find the rarely-worn exercise pants I had stashed away somewhere in my room. (It was in my “clothes I rarely wear but may need sometimes” drawer, which I had forgotten that I had, thus negating the purpose of having that drawer in the first place.)

The reason for abandoning my usual quasi-hipster, too-lazy-to-be-a-style-blogger wardrobe today was that I was taking a self-defense class, geared towards high school girls who want to protect themselves at college, so count me as being late to the party. It’s a two-day workshop, so who knows? Tomorrow I may learn more to warrant a Part 2 to this post. Stay tuned, maybe! (Who are we kidding, this is me! Every time I promise a blog post soon, I end up having an accidental months-long hiatus. Don’t expect a Part 2, but do be pleasantly surprised if there is one.)

This post isn’t to tell you how to defend yourself if you’re attacked—take a class yourself, you lazy blog-reader you! Rather, it’s a list of little ramble-headed musings I had during four hours of kicking, striking, and all-around pain creating.

1. It is totally, awesomely possible to teach about the psychology of violence without resorting to stupid sexist victim-blaming. In case you haven’t noticed, I am really frustrated by the damaging, stupid idea that kidnappings, rapes, and murders occur because some girl somewhere wore a short skirt and it made some poor well-meaning guy rape her, so it’s tooootally her fault. I was worried that this would be one of those things where a guy puffed up with male privilege and condescension lectures on the crime-triggering nature of nice clothes and pretty girls and just wants to tell us that if we don’t ever want to get raped we should just wear burlap sacks, but it very amazingly wasn’t! In teaching us about criminal motivation, Mr. Cool Instructor referenced the same study I threw at that one asshole that one time and told us that the number one thing that attackers look for is vulnerability. Victim-shaming was a wonderfully irrelevant non-fact. A+ and a pro-equality fistbump, guys.

2. Dude! Great posture is the best thing in the world. One of the first things we were made to do was stand up straight as if our shoulder blades were against a wall, and hoooly cow, you will not believe what a difference a slightly straightened spine makes.

3. Once you get to the how-tos of punching and kicking, this self-defense business is a fantastic way to release any primal pent-up rage. That horrible racist/sexist/homophobic person you wish you didn’t know? Someone who used to push you around? Some idiot who left a terrible Youtube comment once? Your own frustration with society and your own self-fulfillment? Just punch a rubber dummy or beat up an instructor wearing heavy padding until he’s in a fetal position on the ground. Rage, gone. Enjoy your new zen outlook on life.

4. Self-defense oddly teaches you things that martial arts don’t necessarily. I did capoeira for four years, so I’m not a martial arts expert by all means, but we learned all our fancy kicks and strikes with the intention of not actually hurting our opponents. In a self-defense class, you just zoom in on all the painful things you can do to a person.

5. High school girls can be really immature. I say this both as a former high school girl and as someone who watched a group of them giggle as the instructor straddled a “victim” on the ground, giggle as they half-heartedly threw some slaps, and exclaim things like “this is so amusing!”

6. The human body is an amazing thing. We are built with so many natural defenses, yet at the same time we’re covered in kill switches that you can easily go for if you know how. In the same vein, it is amazing how many ways there are to seriously hurt someone without using excessive force. Knowledge is power. Very painful power. Remember that, kids. Ow.

7. Even in a safe, monitored environment, where you’re getting “punched” by foam blocks and “choked” by a partner who weighs about a hundred pounds, it is incredible how many injuries you can rack up. I walked away today with an alarmingly hurt wrist, a bruised elbow and knees, a stubbed toe, and oddly sore shoulders. Oh, and take a look at this gratuitous close-up of my leg.

You know it’s time to think about your life choices when you’re posting bruise photos of your leg to a public blog. Hello clients, parents, and famous musicians! Don’t you love my hair follicles?

8. I want to explain something to all the guys of the world. We were told very firmly that even if it may seem rude, you should totally, aggressively tell strange guys who approach you to back off, even if they haven’t actually done anything. I realize that this encourages utterly—how shall I put it delicately?—bitchy behavior, so men of the world? I’m sorry if some woman you’re just trying to talk to gets totally aggressive and raises her voice and tells you to go away, but we’d rather be “bitchy” than raped or killed. (And while you’re at it, read “Shroedinger’s Rapist. You’re welcome.)

9. Small, skinny girls can be surprisingly aggressive. That is all.